Believing Jethro
by CruorLuna
Summary: The third and final oneshot in my Jibbs/Mibbs collection. Jethro knows he has to talk to Jenny sooner or later, but it’s getting her to listen that’s the problem. Rated M!


**Title:** Believing Jethro  
**Author:** CruorLuna (Alison)  
**Rating:** M  
**Category:** NCIS: Naval Criminal Investigative Service  
**Genre:** Angst, romance  
**Pairings:** Jibbs, slight Mibbs

**Characters:** Jenny, Jethro  
**Summary:** Jethro knows he has to talk to Jenny sooner or later, but it's getting her to listen that's the problem. Sequel to Understanding Jethro and Confronting Jethro.

**Disclaimer:** None of the characters are mine. A couple of references to the past are invented, but that's why it's fanfic, people.

**A/N:** I actually totally forgot about this series, and when I discovered the first half of the final instalment on my computer, I thought I may as well sit down and finish the job if I could. It's been a while since I wrote the first two, so this one may be slightly out of sync with them, but I've done my best with it. And I've made Gibbs a lot … 'chattier' than is normal, and possibly acceptable, but it's how the scene played out in my head and so I ran with it. Besides, Gibbs on a mission can give an impressive speech or two, I reckon. Anyway, I hope it ties up any loose ends, and I hope you enjoy it as it is :)

Jenny Shepard closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. The scent of the bourbon in her hand wafted into her nostrils and she let out a long breath, the ghost of a smile flitting across her features. The drink wouldn't make her problems go away, not by a long shot, but it would help to calm her nerves. At the very least, it might take the edge off, and right now, she would take whatever comfort she could get. It had been a tough few weeks.

Sitting back in her high-backed chair, she sipped slowly at the amber liquid, her eyes still closed. The Agency had landed difficult case after difficult case lately. Her agents were overworked, SecNav over-impatient, and results overdue. And as usual, she was bearing the brunt of the fallout. She was handed seventy case reports a day, each one requiring a thorough reading and evaluation before she signed it. When answers didn't appear to be forthcoming, she was the one who faced SecNav in his frustration. And aside from the politics, she also had phone calls to make and take, appearances to keep up, and when she had the time, an Agency to oversee. Being Director of NCIS was more than a job – it was a twenty-four hour commitment, one she had once been convinced she was ready to take on. Now she wasn't so sure.

It wasn't that she didn't love her work. She had been with NCIS for almost ten years now, and not once had she regretted the decision to sign on. She loved what she did. She wouldn't be any good at it if she didn't. But lately it just seemed that the days were longer and the rewards far fewer, and that was what was grating on her nerves now. Well, that … and one other thing.

_If I can do one thing to help you, then I hope this is it. Let go of the guilt. It's time to leave it behind._

Jenny almost laughed aloud as the words reverberated in her head. Three weeks ago now, Hollis Mann had come to her for help in understanding a man Jenny didn't think anyone would ever fully be able to reach. In doing so, she had – however unwittingly – opened up all manner of old wounds for the supposedly stalwart Director. Let go of the guilt? How ironic that she was being counselled in how to move on with her life by the one woman whose life she envied above all others. Hollis loved Leroy Jethro Gibbs; of that much Jenny was certain. But loving him did not give the other woman the right to tell Jenny how to get over him. Maybe in ten years, if things didn't work out between Jethro and the blonde, then Jenny might listen. Until then, she would do what she had always done. Continue to blame herself.

_He says he's forgiven me … but I'll never forgive myself._

She would never forget the way Jethro had looked at her on her first day as Director. His face had closed up and his tone had been light; making jokes to avoid awkwardness. But his eyes, as always, had betrayed him. She had looked into his eyes when he had hinted at wanting a second chance with her, and although his manner had suggested teasing, the clear blue orbs had told another story. As much as he tried to hide his true feelings; to protect himself from being hurt – again – she had always been able to read the truth in his eyes. And they had told her that he was serious. He was willing to overlook her mistakes and move on – together. It had broken her heart all over again to turn him down, pretending she had taken his comments in the jest that he had tried so hard to conceal them with. The only thing more painful than refusing him was the slight flicker of sadness she had spied in his eyes before he shut down his emotions completely.

She took another sip of bourbon, this one slightly larger, and silently revelled in the sensation of it burning a path down her throat. If she could feel pain, and rubbing alcohol, then at least she could feel something. Something was always better than nothing. She swallowed thickly as her thoughts drifted back to Jethro once more. They had had something. It had been close to becoming everything for a while. And now they had nothing. There was probably some kind of karma in there somewhere, but Jenny was too tired to find it. She stiffened slightly as she felt another presence in the room, and heard a slight shift by the door. Without opening her eyes, she relaxed again as a new scent reached her, and she counted to ten slowly inside her head before speaking, giving him the chance to open the lines of communication. It was no shock that he didn't.

"Just because you've disabled your own doorbell, doesn't mean you shouldn't use mine," she said eventually, still not opening her eyes.

"I did." Her eyes fluttered open and she raised one eyebrow, seeking his gaze across the darkened room. It was useless, however, and she was only able to direct her sceptical glance towards his shadowy profile leaning against her study door.

"I find that difficult to believe," Jenny said quietly. Jethro shrugged.

"I did," he repeated. "Twice. You didn't answer."

"So you, what? Thought you'd break in instead?" Teasing was the only way she could bring herself to go about this without risking her emotions being laid bare.

"Door was unlocked. I didn't break anything," Jethro pointed out, his voice quiet and somehow not remotely teasing. "You don't look too busy."

"That your way of asking if you can stay?"

"That your way of saying you want me to?" She rolled her eyes before closing them again. The light pouring in from the open door was giving her a headache.

"You know where the bourbon is," was all she said aloud. She heard his footsteps cross the room, and the clinking of glass as he poured himself a glass from her father's decanter. A moment later she felt his presence close by, and heard him settle into a chair on the other side of her desk. They sat in silence, neither awkward nor companionable, for a few moments, the sounds of each of them sipping their bourbon the only discernable noise.

"You need to sleep, Jen." She opened her eyes again and looked at him, this time able to catch his eye across the table, and was surprised to find concern in his regard. "You've been working crazy hours, and you drink too much and don't eat nearly enough. You're going to run yourself into the ground if you keep it up. People are going to notice."

"Obviously you already did," she countered with a sad smile. She didn't want to argue with him, and she was afraid of their conversation turning to more serious topics.

"I'm more observant than some."

"About some things," Jenny agreed, and cursed herself internally the moment the words left her lips. She was opening herself up to questioning; to a fight; and yet she couldn't seem to help herself somehow. It seemed so natural to banter back and forth with him that sometimes she forgot when to stop. When she would be crossing the invisible line they had drawn between them over two years ago.

"I guess we're skipping the small talk, then," Jethro said evenly, and she sighed.

"You've never been one for beating around the bush, Jethro," she said flatly. "You didn't come here just to drink my bourbon and tell me I look like hell."

"I never said you looked like hell."

"You didn't have to."

"You don't need me to tell you you've been working too hard," he said with a shrug, pouring the contents of his glass down his throat. "You know that already."

"So you came to drink my bourbon and … what? State the obvious?"

"To talk." She snorted before she could stop herself, shooting him a sceptical glance. When he merely got up to pour himself another glass of bourbon, she frowned slightly.

"You didn't drive?" she queried. He shot her a brief look over his shoulder.

"Nope."

"Oh." She nodded in acknowledgement as he placed a second glass of bourbon alongside her now empty one, and she picked it up, cradling it in her hands and peering into its depths. "You don't talk about anything, Jethro. Not about cases, not about your past, and certainly not about anything to do with us. What's really going on here?"

"I don't talk to you about cases because you're the Director," he countered, the tiniest hint of irritation creeping into his tone. "You've got enough to do, and solving cases is my job. You have an entire Agency to worry about. And I don't talk about my past, because I don't need anybody to feel sorry for me. What happened, happened, and that's personal. It doesn't change what happens now."

"Wrong," Jenny argued, sitting up straighter and meeting his eye. "Your past is what makes you who you are today, and who you are affects what happens to you and the people in your life, Jethro."

"And **talking** about it won't change that."

"But it might allow those of us who care to understand a little better," she pointed out, and he flinched as though slapped. She bit her lip and took a larger than necessary sip of her drink. He knew she cared about him on some level, but it was never discussed, and she cursed herself now for crossing the line so rashly.

"I never asked for anyone to try to understand me, Jen," Jethro said with the air of someone choosing his words carefully. "And I've had enough ex-wives to know that I definitely don't need someone who wants to push me, or … or change me."

"Nobody's asking you to change," she returned. "And just because you don't ask anyone to take that much of an interest, or care that deeply, doesn't mean you should blame those who do!"

"I don't **blame** them," he corrected her exasperatedly, "but I won't pander to anyone else's needs when they want to stick their noses in where they're not –"

"Not welcome? Not wanted?" Jenny offered bitterly. "Yes, I think you may have mentioned that once or twice before now. You don't have to ask for help or compassion or – God forbid – friendship, Jethro, but you shouldn't scorn those who aren't afraid to offer it freely to you. You're important to them, and they don't deserve your disrespect just because they dare to care."

"I never –"

"Yes, I know you don't ask them to," she repeated in a monotone, rolling her eyes.

"Are we going to argue about this all night?"

"You tell me. You're the one who showed up here unannounced."

"You want me to leave?" he asked, and his tone had lost its edge. There was a flicker of something like uncertainty in his eyes, and it threw Jenny off somewhat. Jethro wasn't the uncertain type, and he had said he wanted to talk. Even saying the words was a huge step for him. And yet …

"I don't know," she said aloud, hating how her voice cracked as she ducked her head from his gaze. "I guess I don't want you to, no. But maybe you should."

"Probably," he agreed, his voice low.

"It's just … this conversation can't go anywhere but in circles, Jethro," Jenny said with a heavy sigh. "We can talk, scream and cry until we're blue in the face, but it's not going to change a single damn thing, and it never will. So maybe it would be easier on both of us if you said goodnight and walked out of here, and we never spoke of this again."

"And we're both so well-known for making things easy on ourselves, after all," quipped Jethro, and she glared at him.

"I'm glad you think this is funny," she snapped, and he held up a hand in a gesture of peace.

"All right, no more jokes," he said, oddly hoarse all of a sudden. "Just honesty."

"All right," she agreed with a brisk nod.

"Hollis and I split up." Jenny felt her head snap up and her jaw drop, and she struggled to form a sentence as Jethro chuckled wryly at her reaction.

"You – you **what**?" she pressed him, shaking her head in disbelief.

"We. Split. Up," he said, pronouncing each word very carefully. "Three weeks ago."

"Three weeks? But I thought …"

"You'd convinced her to hang around? 'Fraid not," Jethro said with a would-be casual shrug, and she was surprised to find herself believing it. He didn't seem nearly as bothered as she would have expected. She then froze in her seat as the implication of his words hit her, and she cleared her throat.

"She told you, then?" she clarified, and he half-grinned down at his glass.

"Oh yeah, she did."

"Jethro, I'm sor–"

"Don't apologise," he cut her off immediately, "it's a –"

"-sign of weakness," Jenny and he finished in unison, and she rolled her eyes. "Yes, Jethro, so I've heard, but you can damn well consider me weak, in that case. I **am** sorry, all right? She came to me, and I probably said more than I ought to have. It wasn't my place to get involved in your personal life, and the only excuse I can offer you is that … I wanted to help. I could tell she cared about you, and although I may not have shown it, I do respect her. She's a good woman, and you deserve one of those. Apparently I'm not as persuasive as I ought to be in this job, however."

"Oh, I think you persuaded her, all right," he muttered, and she quirked an eyebrow questioningly. He shook his head. "Forget about it."

"Hmm," she said doubtfully. "Well, anyway, I'm sorry things didn't work out for you."

"Don't be," he said, catching her eye, and the intensity of his gaze had her breath catching in her throat. "It was never going to last."

"Oh," Jenny said softly, swallowing thickly. "Well. I, uh … I don't know why you – I mean, I just … what do you want me to say, Jethro?"

"I don't know," he admitted with something between a sigh and a chuckle. "But I figured you ought to know anyway. And it's been a busy few weeks, so …"

"Of course. Thank you," she said politely, her head spinning with unasked questions. Had something she had said driven Hollis away? Who had made the decision to end things? Why had Hollis insisted upon Jenny's own secrecy about their meeting and then told Jethro herself?

"She told me some of what you said." Jethro's sentence came out all in a rush, and Jenny would have laughed under any other circumstances. He was nervous about discussing a personal matter, something he loathed doing and had probably only done three times before in his life. But this was equally personal for her, and she wasn't laughing.

"What did she tell you?"

"You didn't fail me, Jen," he said, not quite answering the question, but saying more than enough for her to want the ground to open up and swallow her whole.

"We don't have to do this, Jethro," Jenny practically whispered, blinking back tears, but he interrupted her firmly.

"Yes, we do," he insisted, his voice sharper than she would have expected. "We can't keep avoiding it forever."

"Why?!" she demanded, her upset turning swiftly to indignation at the hypocrisy of the whole situation. "Why the hell not? Why can we only avoid things when it suits you to avoid them, and not me? Why does everything have to run according to the wants and needs of Leroy Jethro Gibbs? Can you really be this much of a hypocrite?!"

"This coming from the woman who's always pushing me to talk more about what's bothering me, but then as soon as it becomes about your feelings, or your past, you shut down completely?" he retorted, and she recoiled, her fury dissipating. He was right, of course. He was always right. But she didn't have to like the fact.

"Get out."

"Jen …"

"Get out, Jethro," she repeated, keeping her voice low and even, but trying to come across as authoritative. "Enough is enough. Like I said, this can only go in circles."

"Then let's take it in another direction," he said flatly, telling her in his own way that he wasn't letting her walk away from this, and simultaneously surprising her. Jethro coming over here and actually talking was one thing, but pushing the conversation? This was entirely new territory for her. "You think you failed me, and you're wrong."

"You can't just force your opinion on –"

"It's not an opinion, Jen," he cut her off, before continuing as though she hadn't spoken. "We're talking about my feelings here, and I don't feel failed, therefore, you can't have failed me. Case closed, discussion over. Next topic."

"Jethro …"

"No, we just covered that one – pick another."

"You're the one who wanted to talk," Jenny reminded him tartly, and he shrugged.

"Fine." He emptied his second glass of bourbon and sat it on her desk, getting to his feet and moving around the desk towards her. He perched on the edge of the wood directly in front of her, a little closer than she would have liked, and she shifted slightly under his gaze. "Hollis thinks I'm still in love with you." Jenny couldn't hide the flash of surprise that she felt cross her features at this blunt admission, and she let out a shuddering breath.

"Does she?"

"Uh-huh." He scrutinised her thoughtfully. "What d'you think, Jen? You reckon I'm still in love with you?"

"How would I know, Jethro?"

"You'd know," he said, leaning even closer to her, sending involuntary shivers down her spine. "You'd know because you know **me**, Jen. You get me. You know why I'm the way I am, and even before you knew, you accepted it, and you knew me for who I am without **needing** to know why. You're maybe the only person in the world who knows when things get to me without me letting on. And you can always tell what's going on in my head, even if sometimes it takes me a little longer to catch on. You've always understood me. So yeah, I reckon you'd know. So what d'you think?" Jenny shook her head dumbly, before clearing her throat and sitting up slightly straighter, then regretting it as she realised she had just placed them in even closer proximity.

"I am not having this conversation with you, Jethro," she informed him, and the corners of his mouth twitched slightly.

"Then I'll have it myself," he replied easily. "Because I know you too, Jen. And I think … I think you're torn, because part of you wants to believe I'm still in love with you, and the other part won't let you expect that of me, and so you have no idea if it's really how I feel or if you're just dreaming. And that's what's been driving you crazy when I've been with Hollis."

"It has not been driving me –!" Jenny bit her lip and stopped herself from finishing the incriminating sentence, but its point was already made. Jethro gave her a long, knowing look.

"Yeah," he said, reminding her that she hadn't denied his summary of her feelings. "And I also think you're scared. Jenny Shepard doesn't make the same mistakes twice, and you're terrified of letting yourself become even a little bit vulnerable again."

"You're wrong," she hissed. "If I actually believed you cared about me, I'd risk everything in a second, because I –" His lips on hers silenced her, and for the briefest of moments, she found herself drowning in the taste of bourbon and coffee and _him_, and God, if it wasn't the most intoxicating flavour she'd ever known. But reality kicked in mere seconds later, and she pushed him away firmly, her body trembling with what she would like to think was anger, but suspected was something entirely different.

"You know I can't promise you much more than this, Jen," Jethro said gruffly, gesturing between them. "But if that can be enough …" She drew herself up to her full height, trying to get her body under control as she met his eye.

"Get out," she said for the third time, managing to inject enough strength into the words to startle him as she marched past him towards the hall. "I told you I did not want to go down this road, and now I am telling you again. This conversation is **over**. Now leave!" He had followed her to the door in silence, and she turned to glare at him, holding the door open and gesturing out of it.

"I'm not going anywhere until I get a straight answer," he said firmly. He leaned across her and pushed the door closed behind her, pinning her between it and his body and leaning down to look into her eyes, his own blazing. "Now if the reason you want me to leave is because what I'm offering you isn't enough, or it's not what you want, then I'll walk out of here and never mention it again, Director. But if you're throwing me out because you're scared to want this, or because you don't think you **should** want it, but you do, then I won't let you walk away from it, Jenny. Not this time."

"You don't get a choice!" Jenny snapped. "We both know this could never work, and I refuse to put myself into a position where we're both only going to end up hurt!"

"Why couldn't it work?" demanded Jethro, and she scoffed loudly in his face.

"I'm your boss, for crying out loud, Jethro!" she exclaimed. "Not just your boss – I'm the Director of NCIS! I can't get caught sleeping with one of my agents!"

"So that's what it all boils down to? You're choosing your job over me – again?"

"No, Jethro, that is merely the tip of the iceberg," she assured him somewhat bitterly. "But it is part of it, yes, because I can't risk my career over something that wouldn't mean half as much to you as it would to me! I won't be another meaningless fling that you lose interest in after a month, especially not with so much at stake. And I don't want to be anybody's rebound. But even if it weren't for our jobs, and Hollis, there's also the fact that we can't be alone together for thirty seconds without starting a fight; we both work crazy hours and would never see each other; and, just as if that wasn't enough, you also seem to have overlooked the fact that you don't even trust me any more!"

"I do trust you," he said seriously, but she ignored him.

"Ever since the business with La Grenouille, you've never trusted me, at least not the way you used to – and I understand that, I assure you, but it does leave us with a slight problem in this situation. If you can't even trust me enough to work with, how the hell do you expect us to build a personal relationship?!"

"Jen, I said I do trust you," repeated Jethro more forcefully. "I trust you with my life, and right now I'm trusting you with pretty much everything else by even being here. And you can't be a rebound from somebody that never meant half as much as you always have. And, just for the record, I'm not interested in a fling. I can't promise the house in the suburbs with the two point four children, but that doesn't mean I'm going to lose interest in you either. It's been nearly nine years and it hasn't happened yet." Jenny swallowed thickly, thrown by his sincerity.

"Jethro …" She cleared her throat and began again, her voice only mildly stronger. "Jethro, that's very sweet, and I would love to believe you. But you know there are too many risks involved in something like this, even more so when the two people involved are as stubborn as us and have tempers like ours."

"If it's what you need to do, then we'll keep it between us," he promised her, and she sighed softly. She brought a hesitant hand up and cupped his cheek lovingly.

"How can I make you see that this is a bad idea?" she murmured.

"How can I make you see that it's not?" he replied, and she bit her lip.

"I don't think you can," she admitted, blinking back tears. He pushed back slightly from the wall where he had been supporting himself and brought his hands down to cup her face, wiping away her tears with his thumbs. He then leaned over and kissed her closed eyelids in turn, his lips barely a whisper against her skin.

"How about you just let me try?" he mumbled against her forehead, and she shuddered slightly as his breath blew through her hair. One of his hands trailed a path down her neck, his fingers following her collarbone, and she found herself nodding unsurely.

"All right," she conceded breathlessly, finding her body too difficult to ignore. His other hand brushed some loose locks behind her ear and fisted in her hair.

"All right," he repeated, before lowering his lips onto hers. This time she offered no resistance, melting willingly into his arms as his fingers tightened in her short locks and his other hand slid around her waist, pulling her flush against him. She parted her lips for him practically before his tongue had even touched them, and within moments things had escalated for both of them. Jenny shifted against him, inserting a hand between their bodies and tugging at his t-shirt, pulling it free from his trousers and sliding her hand underneath it. She felt his stomach muscles ripple at her touch and she moaned into his kiss as he tightened his grip on her. A moment later she was pinned back against the wall, and Jethro was hitching her up around his waist. She wrapped one leg around him, repositioning herself so that his steadily-hardening erection was pressed into her centre. She pulled his shirt over his head, raking her nails down his chest, and he grinned lopsidedly down at her before capturing her lips in a swift kiss. Pulling away far more quickly that she would have liked, he found the hem of her sweater and pulled it over her head in one fluid motion. For a few moments they contented themselves with caressing one another's newly exposed skin, exchanging languid kisses, but soon that wasn't enough either. Jenny pressed a kiss to the corner of Jethro's mouth and whispered against his skin.

"I trust you remember where the bedroom is?" she asked him breathily, biting down on her lip with a groan as he took the opportunity to suckle on the skin at the base of her neck. He mumbled something indistinct against her collarbone just before sinking his teeth into her, and she let out a small cry. She felt him grin against her skin as she dug her nails into his bare back. "Didn't quite catch that, Jethro."

"I said, d'you think we'll make it there?" he repeated, smirking as her raised his head and caught her eye. She rolled her eyes, stifling a chuckle, and caught his lower lip between her teeth, biting down gently.

"Maybe," she murmured once she released him. "Think you can make it up those stairs?"

"I'll try," he said dryly, somehow managing to glare at her despite their position. Without warning he pushed off the wall, grabbing her with one arm to steady her against him as she let out a surprised squeal. He used his other arm to grab her second leg and hitch it around her waist to join the other one, shifting her weight so that he had one arm free. He paused for a moment to kiss her, drawing a whimper from deep inside her as his tongue massaged hers, and his free hand fingered one of her pebbled nipples through her bra.

"Tease," she gasped against him, burying her face in the crook of his neck as he moved to the other breast, cupping it as he tugged gently on her earlobe with his teeth. "Either take me to bed now, or take me right here." She could feel his shoulder shaking as he chuckled, trailing his lips down her jaw.

"Don't tempt me," he warned her, his voice little more than a growl. Before she had a chance to respond he had laid claim to her mouth once more, kissing her so hard she could practically feel her lips swelling under his insistence. Not that she was complaining. When he eventually pulled away she found that they had somehow made it to the upstairs landing without her having noticed, so preoccupied with him. She quirked an eyebrow in Jethro's direction, and he smirked, clearly proud of himself.

"Show-off," she muttered, leaning over and nipping affectionately at his earlobe. He mumbled something that could have been an agreement as he carried her seemingly effortlessly across the landing and through her open bedroom door. He laid her carefully down on the bed and slid over her, catching her lips in another passionate kiss before his hands circled underneath her body. She arched into him instinctively and felt his fingers work their magic on her bra. As he tossed it over his shoulder, he leant over her and kissed the valley between her breasts, before kissing and licking a path over her right one and catching her nipple in his teeth. She groaned as he continued to lavish his affections on each nipple in turn, before moving slowly, torturously down past her navel until he reached her trousers. He glanced up at her.

"Jen …" His voice was hoarse and Jenny knew he was asking for permission. She nodded breathlessly and arched her hips towards him, kicking off her shoes, and a grin flitted across his face as he popped open her button, sliding her trousers and panties together over her hips. A flash of anxiety entered her mind as she realised she was being completely exposed, but it disappeared as quickly as he sucked in his breath at the sight of her. She heard her remaining clothes hit the floor, and it was the last thing she noted before Jethro drove all rational thought from her mind. He lowered his lips agonisingly slowly onto her body once more, kissing a path up the inside of her thigh until he was just shy of where she wanted him most. She found her own breathing becoming ragged and harsh as one of his hands trailed over her hips, before moving south and replacing his mouth with his fingers, stroking and teasing her until she screamed. And she did scream.

"**God**, Jethro!" Seeming satisfied with himself, he ceased his assault on her and shifted his weight, and Jenny seized the opportunity to flip them over so that she was straddling him. He grinned up at her, seeming amused, as she leant over him and placed open-mouthed kisses to his chest. She wasted no time in divesting him of his trousers and boxers, sending them clattering across the room with the jingle of keys, and she smirked down at him as she took his length into her hand. The smile was quickly wiped from Jethro's face as she cupped him, and she felt herself stir as she watched his eyes close and his teeth creep out to bite his lower lip. Knowing she could reduce him to this with just a few touches was intoxicating. She ran a perfectly manicured nail along his length, feeling him shudder under her, and she flicked her fingertip over the tip of his erection. He moaned, bucking his hips against her as she swiped at him again and again, teasing him to the brink before relenting. The moment she paused for respite, he had flipped her onto her back again and was rearing over her, his eyes dark with desire.

"No more teasing," he growled. She nodded in response and allowed him to nudge her legs apart with his knee, waiting for him to settle himself over her. For a moment he rubbed up against her, pleasuring them both with sensations that were almost too much and at the same time somehow not quite enough. She wrapped her legs around him, raising her hips to him, and he stilled his movements, looking down at her with the final question in his eyes. As if she could turn back now.

"Please, Jethro …" she moaned, hardly able to stand the suspense. And it seemed he felt the same; as without further ado, he plunged himself deep inside her, filling her with his length in one go. She gasped at the sensation of him in her, moving her hands around his shoulders and clinging to him. He paused for a moment, giving her, as he always had, time to adjust to his size, and in those few seconds, he leant over her and seized her lips in a kiss so passionate it left her breathless. Once he seemed satisfied that she was comfortable, he pushed up on his arms, withdrawing almost totally from her, and then thrust back inside her, eliciting a groan from her as she bucked her hips against him. She dragged her nails down his back, feeling only the slightest pang of guilt that she might be hurting him, as he repeated his action, settling quickly into a familiar rhythm. Each thrust pulled her closer to the edge, and she soon found her breathing to be erratic, her heart pounding in her chest, and Jethro's arms beginning to quake on either side of her.

"How close?" he managed to pant out, and Jenny shook her head slightly to assure him that there was no need to wait for her.

"With you," she gasped, pulling his face down to her and kissing him hard. "Come with me, Jethro." He nodded once, sharply, before increasing his pace, driving hard and fast into her. She felt herself beginning to come apart under him, and she leaned up and bit down on his shoulder, crying out against his skin as her muscles contracted; feeling him fall over the edge alongside her as he groaned her name. He collapsed on the bed with her, rolling her onto her side and pulling her into his chest, still inside her. She smiled against him as they each regained control of their breathing, and when she felt able to move again, she pressed a kiss to his heart, snuggling closer to him. His arms tightened around her and he dropped a kiss into her hair, and when he spoke, Jenny swore she could hear him grinning.

"If that didn't show you that this is a good idea …" he murmured, and she couldn't help but titter breathlessly.

"Might have done," she said tauntingly, and he pulled away ever so slightly to shoot a glare down at her. She bit her lip and smiled innocently up at him, and he rolled his eyes and leant down to capture her lips with a mixture of passion and tenderness that made her moan into him. When he released her he ran his fingers absentmindedly through her hair and she buried her face in the crook of his neck, working up the courage to say what she knew he had to hear.

"I can hear you thinking," he whispered, and she sighed contentedly, too relaxed and sated to care.

"It's important," she replied, and his fingers stilled for a moment before resuming their gentle combing of her short locks.

"Anything I should know?" he asked in a would-be-casual tone. Jenny took a deep breath.

"Yes," she said, drawing back far enough to look into his eyes. "It's about what you said earlier – about this being for real; about it being worth it."

"Uh-huh?"

"I believe you."

**A/N:** Wow. It took WAY too long to get all three of these up, but hey, at least that's the series complete! 'Getting To Know You' is still in the works, and if you keep an eye on my profile you'll see a list of ongoing and upcoming pieces. Thanks to everyone who stuck with me through this mini-series, and as ever, I'd love to hear your thoughts!

Alison xx


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